The Devil and the Servant
by WarSinger
Summary: The Scourge is in need of a competent and ruthless general. One with his own mind and will. Ner'Zuhl remembers one orc, that fits that description... R'n'R please. My first serious fic, so be gentle...
1. The Summoning

Arthas, the new Lich King sat on the Frozen Throne, looking over the world through the many minds of his faithful servants. He observed as the scourge spread through the plaguelands he now almost completely controlled, but for the small rebellion centered in the Light's Hope chapel. He saw **his** Undercity, now taken by the traitor Sylvanas and her pet demon. He also studied the men of Stormwind, the orcs of Orgrimmar and other "free" races, through the eyes of his spies all around Azeroth. Victory was near, he mused, and yet so far away.

His most trusted servant, Kel'Thuzad, was not able to crush the Argent Dawn yet, not to mention retrieving the last part of Atiesh, the legendary staff of Medivh, the last Guardian. The Legion was spreading as well, thanks to the Burning Blade and the Shadow Council. They would strike at any moment, but he was yet to discover from where…

_I need more leaders, _he thought, _Kel'Thuzad will not manage alone in all this…_

_True, _another voice within his head answered, _But where will you find allies? You can gather as many undead as you wish, but they will be nothing but mindless slaves… We need someone with more will and mind. Someone close to Thuzad, whom we could trust with such a task._

_I know that, orc… _Arthas replied, annoyed. Ner'zuhl often commented and criticized his actions, always in a very annoying way, _But I fail to see how that will help me. There is no one in the scourge I can trust more or as much as I trust Kel'Thuzad, except myself. The Deathknights are intelligent enough to take care of minor tasks, but they're still too ignorant. _

_Yes… _Ner'zuhl replied, _the only one we may trust is the one we had to resurrect… interesting, do you not think so?_

Arthas scolded himself for not thinking about it sooner and allowing the lich to make fun of him like that. Of course, if he could not appoint any of his existing servants to be his harbringer, he would simply had to make one.

_Who would you suggest, Lich? _He asked.

In return he received visions. Memories, from Draenor.

_A young orc, leading his clan to battle. His incredible skill, ruthlessness and cruelty in combat. His clear mind and excellent tactics, that always led his people to victory. The incredible way of gaining loyality from his clan, despite his young age, the respect he quickly gained from other chieftains and the power… the demonic power he so willingly accepted… And the great demon lord that fell under his one, single strike._

Arthas smirked and nodded. Yes. He would make a great ally, should he be reborn…

Grom Hellscream… Indeed… 

The orc's soul hovered within the nether, unable to even float anymore. The pain was unbareable but there was nothing he could do with it… He could not even see what was around him anymore, not the faces of the many demons laughing at him, nor the demon lord that came every once in a while to ask him the same question over and over…

'_Will you not give in..? If you releas the power within you, we will let you go.' _

'_I will never cooperate with a demon again… you should have expected that…'_

'_If you do not give us back Mannoroth's power willingly, we shall force it out of you, Hellscream.'_

_The orc laughed quietly, 'I have slain the demon to free my people… you think I will let you enslave them once more? No, Kil'Jaeden, I will not return him to you.'_

'_So be it,' the demon lord replied, 'If that be your choice I shall do with you what I have with Ner'zuhl. Eternal torment, or the power.'_

And thus it was. Pain beond anything he could have ever imagined. Each day, Kil'Jaeden would come and ask him again if he would surrender and every day he refused… in the beginning because of his own heroic needs and honour, later, because he just wanted to annoy the demon in return for all the pain. Now… now it became a routine.

He tried to remember anyone… anything that could help him endure this, but in vain. He sometimes would call out to Thrall, praying the shaman will hear him, but it was no use. He could, at times, almost feel the Warchief's mind close to his, but never no help… not from anyone, not even his most trusted friend… his own brother…

He cursed himself for how weak we was… he would surrender… if not now, then the next time… he would, in the end… He was almost praying for the demon to arrive and ask him again, even if it would result in his complete destruction. It was better than this. It had to be.

He could feel someone approach him. Finally… Took him long, it did. He looked up, trying to focus and see Kil'Jaeden, to at least look into those demonic eyes when he surrendered… But the eyes were bright blue. Thrall, he thought at first, but then realized it was a cold, icy soulless blue, not the calm sky-blue of his brother's.

The newcomer raised a hand… a rather thin one from what Grom was able to see, and the orc felt something grasp him, as if pulling him away. He tried to fight it but he was too weak, and he found himself falling into oblivion. The pain increased. He wanted to scream but could not. If he had a body, he would have cried…


	2. The Awakening

He awoke in complete darkness. He could barely remember what happened. Only pain and an incredible feeling of betrayal… There was no pain now, but whoever saved him from it was not Thrall… not the one he so hoped it to be…

He tried to move and realized his body was back. He touched his hands and face and then his chest… everything seemed fine… he was alive… not undead, but alive…

He turned, feeling someone… or something behind him. He saw the same pair of cold blue eyes and a moment later, after his eyes adjusted, he saw who the… person was.

'Undead…' he tried to say but his voice came out a harsh whisper.

'Indeed…' the huge, cold eyed skeleton said, 'I am that… You do not know me, Grommash Hellscream, but I know you…'

'What exactly are you…?' the orc asked, 'And what do you want with me..?'

'I am a Lich… My name is Kel'Thuzad and I am a trusted servant of the one called the Lich King. He ordered me to bring you back to life…'

'Life… what do you undead know of bringing back to life…' Grom breathed, 'How come my body is untouched by your plague? Did you just take my soul..?'

The Lich laughed, 'No, you have your soul… and we could not have resurrected you withouth help…' the eyes glew a bit more, what could have ment a smirk, 'We… persuaded many powerful priests that were our prisoners to help us… we captured them only to resurrect you…'

'I feel flattered… But what do you want of me..?' the blademasted asked, trying to stand, 'No one even knew where I was… No one even cared… responded to my calls…' he stumbled and fell back to his knees, cursing.

'We have… the Lich King heard your pleas and acknowledged your power and ability…' Thuzad explained, 'Though I do believe you hoped it to be someone else, am I right..?'

Grom trembled slightly, if only for a second, 'No matter… What do you want?' He looked up to meet the cool, blue gaze.

'My King wishes you to serve him as one of his Commanders…' the Lich said, 'You will be given power over many a Scourge and great honors await you, should you agree…'

The orc looked up at him and used all his strength to stand. He was almost as tall as the Lich, who, what he now realized, was floating. He eyed his features for a moment and then, whith his eyes closed, he allowed himself to inhale the power surrounding him… It was… pure. Pure, incredible power. So different than the one of demons, the one within his own soul, and so… delicious.

He opened his eyes. The Lich awaited his response patiently, not giving any sign of emotion. Thrall has left him… His people have left him. They were powerful shamans and yet they would not heed his calls. And this Lich did. Not to mention this power… and the fact he freed him from that unbearable pain and gave him his body.

'I agree.'

The Lich moved back slightly, 'Just like that..?'

'Just like that.'

Thuzad did not show emotion, what was quite easy in his current state, and yet there was an aura of amazement around him.

'You realize we are not the peaceful and honorable Horde you fought for..' he added.

'I am fully aware. Now. What am I to do?'

Kel'Thuzad went silent, for a long moment. Grom smirked, realizing how much he shocked the Lich and gave a quiet giggle.

Then, suddenly, he begun to laugh.


	3. The Servant

The necromancer hovered in his chamber, musing. He had moved the orc to one of his slain generals' room, provided him with food and clothing. And he felt… relieved. Somehow, having Hellscream close felt disturbing. As if he had too much of the Nether still left in him and it threatened to devour the lich any second… No… he was not a normal orc. He was not a normal mortal even. There had to be something in him that made Ner'Zuhl want him as his general but… something that terrifying? And that laugh… that incredibly insane laugh followed by incredibly sane and coherent words… And his cool, emotionless acceptance of anything the Lich said. His simple obedience.

He shivered slightly and turned towards the entrance.

'Bloodbane!' he called.

A young deathknight entered and knelt.

'I have need of you, Bloodbane,' Kel'Thuzad spoke, 'I need you to go to Hellscream's chambers and offer him your service. Tell him I sent you.'

'As… As you wish, master..' the knight said and hurried out.

Grom sat in the chamber the undead prepared for him. A huge four poster bed occupied quite a part of it, then there was a table, with some food on it, a wardrobe and some book-filled shelves. Most probably, the room belonged to one of the necromancers before he was moved here. The room did not stink as much as he expected it to. Actually… the whole citadel stunk but not half as bad as one would think it.

He sat on the bed, arms crossed, and looked around. The walls were raw stone, just like outside. Some curtains hung from right below the ceiling and that was about it. Quite simple for something made by, until recently, humans. His robe was also a plain black one, as they had nothing else that would fit him. Thuzad mentioned getting him a "proper armor", but that will probably take a while.

He stood and walked to the bookshelf.

"War of the Ancients… Royal families of Lordaeron… Raise of the Horde…" here he smirked, "Necronomicon… fascinating…" he took the last book and looked through it briefly. Frowning, he put it aside. Spells on how to fight without getting engaged in battle and without getting hurt sounded wrong.

There was a knock on the door.

'Enter…' he said and a, seemingly young, deathknight went in, a long, brown braid falling from his shoulder.

'M.. M'lord Hellscream..?' he asked.

'No, just another resurrected orc you have around,' the blademaster smirked, 'Of course it's me.'

The boy blushed, 'M.. master Thuzad appointed me your servant, sir…'

'Servant?' Grom blinked.

'Yes… I am at your every command… a-and I'm suppose to help you get to know our armies and all too… and command them if necessary…'

The orc studied him. The knight was a bit short for a man, very lean built, and a slightly girlish face. The plate armour looked almost grotesque on him.

'Take off your armour…' he commanded.

After a moment of hesitation and confused blinking, the boy did as he was told. Underneath the plate, he wore a black leather vest and leather leggings, tight and matching his slim figure.

'You're no warrior, that's for sure…' Grom walked around him, eying him thoroughly, 'You're too lean… too small…' the boy gulped, thinking he was criticized. The orc reached for his arm and touched his muscles, 'No… not a warrior. You were trained for something else, am I right?'

The lad trembled slightly as he replied.

'Y-yes sir.'

'A rogue?'

'Close sir.'

'Assassin.'

Only a nod.

The orc moved away, 'What's your name, boy?' he asked.

'Bloodbane sir. Nicholas Bloodbane.'

'Good… very good… sit down … anywhere,' he motioned around the room.

Not sure what it all was about, the lad sat on a wooden chair, his back straight, his eyes fixed on his orcish master. Grom sat on the bed and looked back at him, smiling with approval.

'Very good…' he repeated. His eyes shone bright red.

'S-sir?' Bloodbane sounded frightened.

'Don't fear.' Grom shook his head dismissively, 'You have nothing to fear from me. Not now and not ever, unless you disobey me without a clear purpouse. Understood?'

'Yes sir!' the boy said.

'Aye…' Grom smirked again, 'Oh I will have good use of you, Nicholas… I'm sure I will.'


End file.
